


All Together

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Season/Series 02, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8978017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: May reminds Coulson that he's not doing this on his own.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a Christmas present for the lovely lore. Set during season two.

Coulson cursed as his gun jammed and resorted to smashing it into the face of his assailant. Blood gushed out from the broken nose, covering Coulson as much as his attacker. Coulson didn't let up though, ending up on the ground and knocking the man's feet from under him. His head hit the wall with a satisfying crunch and finally he lay still.

“Any time someone wants to chip in, that would be great,” Coulson muttered into his radio. Only silence greeted him which either meant that no one could hear him or May thought responding was beneath her.

He winced as a second attacker threw a chair in his direction, skimming against the back of his head. Before he had chance to twist and take him out two gunshots rang out and both assailants slumped dead to the floor. Coulson looked up to see May standing in the doorway, smoke from the fire she'd set drifting around her. She looked magnificent.

“You were taking too long,” she said and then proceeded out the opposite door, not even waiting for him to follow.

“I need a vacation,” he muttered to himself, before quickly following before the fire took hold. “Or better friends.”

“Director Coulson, we meet again.”

Coulson stopped in his tracks. May was standing off to one stand, battle ready. Fitz was kneeling on the floor, gun pressed against his head. He was doing a very good job of not looking scared out of his mind.

“Dalston. I'm going to need you to put the gun down.”

“I don't think so. Little Fitzy here is going to help me take over the world.”

Coulson tried to keep a straight face. These days it was getting harder and harder to take this kind of nonsense seriously.

“Your invention doesn't work. You do know that, right? It's against the laws of...”

Coulson stopped talking as Dalston pointed with his free hand to the wall. Bricks started to shift and crumble.

Fitz shifted a little on his knees and Coulson nodded at him; they'd done this dance before. Just as Fitz was about to duck and Coulson was getting ready to shoot, May shot Dalston in the arm.

Fitz pushed him backwards and Coulson was there, pointing a gun in his face before he could do anything else.

“Fitz?”

“I'm fine,” Fitz replied. He gave two quick gulps and then started examining the device strapped to Dalston's arm.

“Do you know how it works?” Coulson asked.

“We need to leave,” May said, pulling up Dalston by the shirt.

Coulson realised that it was getting smokier and that soon the roof would be coming down around them if they didn't get out of there.

“You're right. Fitz, come on.”

Fitz nodded and got himself up, Coulson covering him as they moved to the van outside where Skye and Simmons were waiting for them.

“We need to move,” May said again, pushing Skye towards the van. Skye hesitated a fraction to check that Coulson and Fitz were following and then hopped into the back with a now handcuffed Dalston. Coulson went to the driver's side, only to find May already there and starting the engine.

He nearly said something about this not being the plan, but suspected he'd never live it down if he did. Instead he jumped into the van and held on as May suddenly sped them away from the factory, just as it exploded, sending a fireball high up into the sky.

“You're bleeding,” May said.

Coulson blinked and looked at his hand. Blood was pouring down it, and now he thought about it, his arm was aching a little. He pulled up his shirt and realised that at some point he had been shot.

“Damn it,” he muttered. He shrugged off his jacket as Skye passed forward the First Aid kit.

“Are you okay?” Skye asked.

“Just a scratch,” Coulson said, over May's loud snort to the contrary. Coulson ignored them both and settled on a temporary bandage until they were back at base.

“We should have had more backup,” May said, weaving around the traffic as if it was standing still.

“We handled it fine,” Coulson said, bristling a little at the criticism. May turned to glare at him and then looked back to the road. “It might not have gone completely to plan,” he conceded but didn't have the chance to say anything else as May skidded to a stop.

“We'll debrief later,” she said, and hopped out of the van. The others were doing the same, moving towards where their plane was parked.

“That's supposed to be my line,” Coulson muttered, before following his team on to the plane.

* * * ** *

May was piloting, as usual, and Coulson decided to head up there and sit next to her (though of course only after Simmons had added a proper bandage and criticised his first aid technique. He tried not to take it personally).

“You're taking too many risks,” May said as Coulson sat down. Coulson paused and then made himself comfortable, this was going to feel like a long journey, even if the reality was going to be somewhat different.

“Just because this mission...”

“All of the missions,” May said, forcefully. “You're the Director. You can't afford to get hurt.”

“I didn't know you cared,” Coulson said, aiming for levity.

“I've always cared,” May replied.

Coulson looked over at her and sighed. “I know.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “It's been a long week. And you're right, I should have arranged more back-up.”

May's gaze drifted towards him and then back to the controls but otherwise her expression didn't waver.

“And I suppose going out in the field myself was....”

“Reckless?”

“ _Unnecessary.”_ He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “Sitting behind a desk has never been my thing. You know that.”

“That's what got you killed.”

“Among other things,” Coulson agreed, pleasantly. He moved his hand to rub at the scar on his chest and then stopped himself, moving it to rest on his leg instead. He doubted May was fooled.

“Is it hurting again?” she asked.

“Only when I think about it. Not as much these days,” he added. “Too many other things to worry about.”

“You still aren't going to tell them?”

Coulson opened his eyes and looked over at her. “Them?”

“The Avengers.”

Coulson felt his own expression harden, like it always did. Part of him desperately wanted to let them know he was still alive, at least Clint and Natasha, but it was still too dangerous.

“Not just my life on the line if I do,” he said. “And we've had this conversation before.”

“We've had a lot of conversations before. Never got anywhere with them, either.”

Coulson frowned. “Where did you want them to go?”

May didn't answer. Instead she stared straight ahead, as if piloting the plane had suddenly become something complicated that she couldn't do blindfolded if she wanted, though Coulson had indeed seen her do just that.

Coulson didn't know how to break the silence. Lately there'd been _something_ between them, more than usual, that kept them from saying exactly what they meant. May was the only person, certainly the only person currently in SHIELD who he could confide in and yet he was the Director and he had to keep secrets, had to keep them all safe. If that meant having to stand alone, then that's what he'd have to do.

“I'm going to go lie down for a bit,” Coulson said eventually.

May turned a worried expression on him. “Your arm?”

“A little sore. I'm just tired.”

May kept her gaze on him and he tried not to flinch at its assessment. They'd seen each other at their worst, the least he could do was give her this, whatever this was.

Finally May nodded and went back to staring straight ahead. As Coulson manoeuvred out of his seat he hesitated a fraction and then put his hand on May's shoulder and squeezed. It was only a fleeting touch, but he thought he felt May relax into it, just for a moment.

Unsure of what else to do he left the cockpit and headed to one of the bunks. He'd probably not actually get any sleep, but at least he could pretend he'd given it a good try. He had a lot to think about, and he suspected May did too. Too many close calls and not enough time to say all the things they wanted to, and when they did have the time, the words just wouldn't come.

Once they were back at base, and rested, maybe he had to be the one to take the initiative, to convince May to eat dinner with him, try to work out what they were going to do next. And how they wanted their future to look.  



End file.
